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đ Making Your Villain Make Sense (Without Making Them Rightâą)
("because if I see one more war criminal with a sad diary entry get a redemption arc, Iâm gonna throw my laptop.")
Hereâs the thing: your villain doesnât need to be redeemable. But they do need to make sense.
And I mean sense beyond "theyâre evil and they monologue about it."
Or âthey have a tragic past, so now they do murder <3.â
Or âthey were right all along, the hero just couldnât see it đ„ș.â
Letâs fix that.
âââââââ ⊠âââââââ
đ§ STEP ONE: BUILD A LOGIC SYSTEM THAT ISNâT OURS
Your villain shouldnât just be wrong, they should have their own internal system that works for them. Morally flawed? Absolutely. But coherent.
Ask yourself:
What do they value more than anything? (Power? Order? Loyalty? Vengeance?)
What do they believe about the world, and how did they get there?
What fear drives them? What future do they think theyâre trying to prevent?
The villain doesnât need to know theyâre wrong. But you should.
Make their logic airtight. even if itâs awful. Give them cause and effect.
âââââââ ⊠âââââââ
đż STEP TWO: STOP GIVING THEM THE BETTER IDEOLOGY
Listen. I love a âmorally grayâ moment as much as anyone. But if your villain is making all the good points and the heroâs just like âno because thatâs mean,â your arc is upside down.
If your villain is critiquing injustice, oppression, or inequality, make sure their methods are the problem, not their entire worldview.
âïž WRONG:
Villain: âThe ruling class is corrupt.â
Hero: âThatâs not nice.â
âïž RIGHT:
Villain: âThe ruling class is corrupt, so Iâm burning the city and everyone in it.â
Hero: âSo youâre just⊠committing genocide now?â
Your villain can touch a real issue. Just donât let them be the only one talking about it, or solving it with horror movie logic.
âââââââ ⊠âââââââ
đȘ STEP THREE: GIVE THEM POWER THAT COSTS THEM
The best villains lose things too. Theyâre not just untouchable horror dolls in sexy coats. They make bad choices and pay for them. Thatâs where the drama lives.
Examples:
They isolate themselves.
They sacrifice people they love.
They get what they want, and it destroys them.
They know theyâre the monster, and choose it anyway.
If your villain can kill a dozen people and feel nothing, thatâs not scary. Thatâs boring.
Let them bleed. Let them regret it. Let them double down anyway.
âââââââ ⊠âââââââ
đ§± STEP FOUR: MAKE THEM PART OF THE WORLD, NOT OUTSIDE IT
Villains shouldnât feel like they were patched in from another genre. They should be part of the worldâs logic, culture, class system, history. They should reflect something about the setting.
Villains that slap:
The advisor who upheld the regime until they decided they deserved to rule.
The noble whoâs using war to reclaim stolen legacy.
The ex-hero who thinks the system canât be saved, only reset.
The priest who truly believes the gods demand blood.
Theyâre not just evil, theyâre a product of the same world the hero is trying to save.
âââââââ ⊠âââââââ
đ STEP FIVE: SHOW US THEIR SELF-JUSTIFICATION
You donât need a tragic backstoryâą. But you do need to show us why they think theyâre right. Not just with exposition, through action.
Let us watch them:
Protect someone.
Choose their goal over safety.
Justify the unjustifiable to a character who loves them.
Refuse to change, even when given a chance.
A villain who looks into the mirror and goes âYes. Iâm correct.â is 1000x scarier than one who sobs into a journal and says âIâm so broken đ„ș.â
âââââââ ⊠âââââââ
đ§š BONUS ROUND: DONâT MAKE THEM A HATRED MEGAPHONE
Especially if youâre writing marginalized characters: donât let your villain become a mouthpiece for slurs, abuse, or extremism just to make them âevil enough.â Thatâs lazy. And harmful.
You donât need real-world hate speech to build a dark character. You need power, consequence, and intent.
âââââââ ⊠âââââââ
TL;DR:
Good villains donât need to be right. They need to be real.
Not a vibe. Not a sad boy in a trench coat. Not a trauma monologue and then a sword fight.
They need logic. They need cost. They need to scare you because you get them, and still want them to lose.
Make them dangerous. Not relatable.
Make them whole. Not wholesome.
Make them make sense.
ârin t.
// thewriteadviceforwriters
// villain critic. final boss consultant. licensed chaos goblin
P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages đ you can grab it here for FREE:
⊠A free (and actually helpful) guide to leveling up your first 10 pages âŠIf you're unsure whether your opening is âšdoing enoughâš to hook re
How about writing something along the lines of Sebastian and reader are rookie Auroraâs on their first day but there is just some difference in how theyâre treated. Sebastian is treated like howâd you expect, barely achnowleged until he screws up and is paying a price for it. but somehow after all these years readers is still getting the âhero of hogwarts treatmentâ itâs just little things like extra praise and telling them itâs okay they messed up with only minor consequences, as well as people offering to do their paperwork, etc. However it adds up after a week and Sebastianâs jealousy comes out as he confronts the reader about the special treatment they receive at work when they got home that night. (I like to think they got engaged quickly after hogwarts and either bought a place or kept the cottage in Feldcroft)
this may have taken a life of its own while pitching this.
Resentment | Sebastian Sallow x Reader
This was such a unique idea and I've never written something quite like this, thank you for the prompt anon! Honestly this took on a life of its own while I was writing it! I originally planned for a happy ending but...
Words: ~3,600
Tags: Post Hogwarts, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Established Relationship, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort
Sebastian had expected their first week as Aurors to be rough. Everyone had warned them that rookies were at the bottom of the food chain. No special treatment, no shortcuts. The senior Aurors wouldnât be impressed by their Hogwarts accolades or their N.E.W.T. scores. If they wanted to prove themselves, they had to do it through sweat, blood, and resilience.
Sebastian was ready for that. He didnât expect to be taken seriously right away.
But he hadnât expected to be invisible.
Heâd been shoved aside in field drills, barely acknowledged beyond curt instructions. The first time he made a mistakeâmisjudging a defensive maneuver and knocking over an entire stack of case filesâheâd been chewed out in front of the entire team. "Sallow, if you canât keep your footing, you can sit at a desk instead." The laughter that followed had burned like acid.
Fine. That was the treatment heâd expected. But you? You might as well have been walking on air.
It started small, little pats on the back after training, murmured praise when you completed routine spells, encouragement when you messed up, instead of the sharp reprimands Sebastian and the other rookies got. He saw senior Aurors smile at you, nod in approval, even laugh at your mistakes like they were endearing.
The first time you misfired a spell and nearly singed a superiorâs robe, Sebastian had braced himself for the verbal lashing to come. Instead, the man just chuckled and waved it off. "Donât worry about it, first weekâs tough for everyone."
Sebastian had nearly snapped his wand in half right then and there.
It only got worse.
You had entire conversations with higher-ups that Sebastian could barely get two words out of. If you struggled in a training exercise, someone stepped in to help. When you had too much paperwork, someone offered to do it for you because you âhad a long dayâ.
Sebastian had also had a long day.
He had been thrown to the ground three times in sparring practice, made to redo his reports twice, and had to stay late because no one cared that he had been exhausted.
And somehow, you didnât even bat an eye at your special treatment.
By Friday, it was eating him alive.
The two of you apparated home after work and the golden light of sunset filtered through the windows of the cottage, casting warm hues over the stone walls.
It did nothing to soften Sebastianâs mood.
You sighed, rolling your shoulders. âThat was exhausting. At least itâs the weekend.â
Sebastian didnât move from the entryway. His fingers curled into his palms, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
You turned toward him, brows knitting together at his silence. "Seb?"
"...You're tired?"
You blinked at him, confused. âYeah?â
He laughed. "From what?"
Your brow furrowed. â...From working all day? From training?â
Sebastian shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. âRight. Because that was so difficult for you, wasnât it? Another long, exhausting day of getting praised for breathing, of having your arse wiped for you while the rest of us have to fend for ourselves?â
Your expression twisted in confusion, but it was starting to turn wary. âWhat are you talking about?â
He let out another short laugh, pacing across the room. His feet thudded against the wooden floor with each step, his frustration a storm building inside him.
"Oh, I donât know," he snapped. "Maybe how every bloody Auror in that office treats you like royalty? How they praise you for the same things I get torn apart for? How you can make mistakes, and they just fix them for you?"
Your frown deepened. "Sebastian, itâs not like that."
"Isnât it?" He turned to face you fully, crossing his arms over his chest, shoulders taut with frustration. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to watch you get handed everything on a silver platter while I have to fight for every scrap of recognition?"
Your confusion tranformed into defensiveness. âI donât get things handed to me, I work just as hard as you do.â
"Do you?" Sebastian took a step closer, staring you down. "Because it seems to me like every time you screw up, someoneâs right there to clean up after you. You didnât even have to do your own bloody paperwork today!"
"I didnât ask for that," you replied, fighinting to keep your voice from wavering. "They justâ"
"Exactly!" He cut you off, gesturing wildly. âPeople just do things for you! Do you even hear yourself?"
"Sebastian, pleaseâ"
But he wasnât done. He was too angry to be done.
"Youâve had people worshipping you since we were fifteen," he went on, voice rising with every word. "And I get it, alright? I do! You saved Hogwarts, you saved the wizarding world, youâre the bloody Chosen One or whatever. But we left school, and thisâthis was supposed to be different!" His hand clenched into a fist at his side. "We both trained for this. We both earned our spots. But somehow, youâre still treated like the prodigy, and Iâm still just another nobody!"
âThatâs not fair,â you argued, "Youâre not a nobody and you know that! And donât act like Iâve had everything easyâI worked my arse off to be here just as much as you!"
Sebastian scoffed. âOh, really? And what, exactly, have you had to prove? Because from what I can tell, you donât have to prove a damn thing.â
Your patience snapped like a stretched wire. âOh, I donât know, Sebastian,â you shot back. âI think maybe the part where I fought a whole goddamn rebellion at fifteen is where I proved myself!â
Sebastianâs eyes flashed, his frustration only igniting further. âYeah?â he snarled. âAnd what, does that give you a lifetime pass to never have to prove anything ever again?â
âThatâs not what Iâm saying, and you know it!"
"Bullshit," His tone was sharp, biting. "You waltz into the Ministry and everyone just assumes youâre brilliant, assumes youâre untouchable, assumes youâre better than the rest of us! Meanwhile, I have to claw my way up from the bottom and you just fucking watch!â
You gaped at him. âAssumes I'm brilliant? So what, you don't think I am?"
Sebastian barely felt the jab of your finger against his chestâhis anger was a fire burning too hot to notice.
âDonât twist my words,â he snapped, eyes flashing. âI know youâre brilliant. Iâve always known. But that doesnât mean itâs fair. That doesnât mean I should have to stand here and watch you get treated like the Ministryâs golden child while I get torn apart for breathing wrong!"
Your jaw clenched. âSo what, youâre angry because you're... you're jealous? Because I get some slack?
Sebastian let out a sharp, bitter laugh. âSome slack? Do you even hear yourself? They worship the ground you walk on! If you screw up, itâs, âOh, no worries, youâve had a long day.â If I screw up? âSallow, get your shit together or go push paperwork.ââ His voice lowered into something cutting, something scathing. âTell me, whenâs the last time anyone told you to âget your shit together?ââ
Your expression wavered, just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
Sebastian huffed. âExactly.â
Your nostrils flared, and suddenly you were stepping forward, frustration rolling off you in waves. âYou think Iâve had it easy? You think I havenât fought for everything I have?â
Sebastian scoffed. âI think you fought when you were fifteen, and now you donât have to anymore.â
Your breath left you in a sharp exhale, like he had struck you, but you werenât backing down.
âDo you really think it was a privilege to be that person, Sebastian? Do you think I want to be the Ministryâs favorite war story? You think I should apologize for the fact that they wonât let me be anything else?â
Sebastianâs fingers twitched at his sides, but he had no words, only deep-seated resentment simmering beneath his ribs.
You scoffed, shaking your head. âYou have no idea what itâs like, do you?â
Sebastianâs jaw tightened. âOh, here we go.â
You ignored him.
âYou have no idea what itâs like to have people watch you all the time, waiting for you to be exactly who they expect you to be, who they want you to be. No idea what itâs like to walk into a room and have everyone already decided who you are.â
Sebastianâs temper flared. âI donât know what itâs like?â he spat. âAll anyone is waiting for me to do at work is fail. To be just like my uncle. To be some dangerous, reckless fuck-up whoâd never amount to anythingââ
âAnd yet,â you cut in, voice steel, âyou still got to decide who you are, didnât you? You still got to fight for yourself!â
Sebastian opened his mouth, but you didnât let him speak.
âI didnât get that choice, Sebastian. My life was decided for me the moment I survived the rebellion. I could either be their war hero, or I could be a goddamn disappointment for not joining the Ministry."
The silence between you was suffocating. Sebastianâs breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling too fast. His pulse pounded in his ears.
You shook your head. âYou think I enjoy this? That I wouldnât trade all of itâevery bit of the admiration, the praise, the âspecial treatmentââto just be normal?â
âThen why donât you stop it?â Sebastian spat.
Your lips parted, but no words came.
Sebastian laughed. âThatâs what I thought. Because you love it." The words came out low, scathing. "Donât fucking lie to me. You love the attention, the admiration, the way people hang on your every word."
Sebastian should have stopped. Should have seen the way your hands clenched, how you sucked in a sharp breath like he had physically struck you, but he was too caught up in his own fury, too tangled in his own resentment, and he just kept going.
He was hurt, he was raw, and if he was bleeding, then so were you.
"So donât stand there and act like you hate it, like you wouldnât kill to keep it," he spat. "Because youâve had years to change things, and yet, here you areâstill letting everyone kiss the fucking ground you walk on. You love walking into a room and knowing everyone already adores you, already thinks youâre something larger than life. You love that when you fuck up, people look the other way. You love that no one ever questions you. That no one ever expects you to fail. That no one ever assumes the worst of you."
He let out a breathless, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Must be fucking nice."
You just stared at him, silent, unmoving. Sebastian wanted you to yell back, wanted you to scream at him, to tell him he was wrong, to argue, to fight. But you didnât.
You just looked at him with something unreadableâsomething wounded, yes, but deeper than that. Something he couldn't name.
Sebastianâs stomach turned violently, the weight of what he had just said slamming into him all at once. His anger drained, leaving something hollow and sickening in its wake.
"Wait, Iâ"
But you had already taken a step back.
"You actually believe that, dont you?" You shook your head, exhaling slowly, as if something had finally, finally clicked into place. âYou really, truly believe that.â
âNo, thatâs not true, Iââ
âSpare me your goddamn excuses,â you cut him off, your eyes blazing now. âDonât act like you havenât spent the last ten minutes trying to tear me down just so you donât have to sit with your own fucking feelings.â
Sebastian opened his mouth, but no words came out.
âI love you, Sebastian,â you cried. âBut I wonât let you do this to me. Not now. Not ever. I will not stand here and be your fucking punching bag.â
âIââ
âYouâre angry, I get that,â you cut him off, relentless now. âAnd you have every right to be! I get that this isnât fair. Itâs not fair that I get special treatment. Itâs not fair that people are willing to overlook things for me that theyâd never overlook for you. And itâs not fair that youâve had to work twice as hard just to prove that youâre not your uncle.â You exhaled sharply, like saying it out loud was exhausting. âYouâre right, Sebastian. And Iâll fix it. Iâll go in early on Monday, Iâll talk to them, Iâll address it. Iâll do whatever I can to make it right.â
You scrubbed a hand down your face, flicking unshed tears from your lashes, inhaling sharply as if forcing yourself to stay upright, to stay steady, to keep from breaking right here in front of him.
"But how fucking dare you stand there and tell me I wouldnât fight for you the second I knew something was wrong? I have fought for you from the second I met you, and you know it. I have fought for you when no one else did, when no one else would. And this is what I get?!"
Sebastian felt the room tilt. This wasnât how this was supposed to go.
He had been so sureâso damn sureâthat if he just let everything out, if he got it all off his chest, if he made you see how fucking unfair it all was, then heâd feel better. But instead, he felt like he had just ripped open something vital. Like he had swung too hard, missed his mark, and severed something he hadnât meant to touch.
"Youâ" He swallowed thickly, reaching for words that wouldn't come. "That's not what Iâ"
"Yes. It is," you cut in, voice quieter now. Flatter. "You said exactly what you meant."
Sebastian felt his stomach turn violently, bile burning at the back of his throat.
âNo,â he rasped. âNo, Iâfuck, thatâs notâplease, justââ
"You think I want this?" Your voice cracked, the first fracture in the mask you had thrown up, but you didnât let it break. "You think I want to be some fucking symbol, to have my entire life boiled down to a title I never even asked for?"
Sebastian's pulse thundered in his ears, his own voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't meanâ"
"Then what did you mean, Sebastian?" You threw your hands up, voice raw, sharp enough to cut. "Because you just stood here and told me, to my face, that I love this. That I want it. That I eat up the praise, that I enjoy being put on a pedestal I never fucking climbed onto to begin with!"
Sebastian flinched. What could he say to that? How could he take back something he had already carved into the space between you?
You let out a breathâslow, controlled, like you were steadying yourself from the inside out.
"I have neverânot onceâmade you feel like less of a person for what youâve been through. I have never used your past against you. And I sure as hell have never thrown your worst fears in your face just to win an argument," You let out a humorless, breathless sound. "I would never do that to you, so why the fuck do you think itâs okay to do it to me?â
Sebastian felt those words like a strike to the chestâhard, unrelenting, leaving something cracked and aching in their wake. His hands clenched at his sides, his breath coming too fast, too uneven.
"Do you really think so little of me that youâd rather punish me for something I didnât even know I was doing instead of just talking to me?" You went on, voice quieter now. "You could have come to me, like a normal fucking person, and we could have figured this out together."
Sebastian moved before he could think, his hands reaching for you instinctively, desperately. âNoâno, of course not,â he blurted frantically. âI think the world of youââ
But you stepped back. It wasnât a dramatic movement. It wasnât even all that far. But it was enough.
âYou donât get to break something and then panic when it starts to fall apart,â you said. âYou donât get to say things just to hurt me and then act like you didnât mean them the second you realize you went too far.â
Sebastianâs breathing was uneven, his pulse hammering in his ears. âI didnâtâ I wasnât thinking, I was justââ
âAngry?â you finished for him, voice tired now. âYeah, I got that.â
âI fucked up,â he admitted, the words strained, like they hurt to say. âI know I did. But I didnât meanââ
âBut you did. You meant every word when you said it. And I... I think youâve been carrying this resentment for a long time, Sebastian."
This resentment. This awful, festering, rotting thing.
Fuck, you were right.
It had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. It had taken root the day you walked into Sebastian's life, shining too brightly, outshining everyone. Outshining him. The day you became something more, and he was left chasing your shadow.
This fight had never really been about the special treatment, had it? Not really.
Because, if he were honestâif he could admit the truth he had been running fromâhe knew you deserved to be treated differently. Of course, you did. You had always deserved it. You were brilliant. Blindingly so. You had power, strength, and the kind of unshakable resolve that made people believe in you. You had fought for the world, and the world had loved you for it. And Sebastianâwhat had he done?
While you had been defeating Ranrok, he had been falling into dark magic. While you had been saving lives, he had been destroying his own. You had been a hero. He had been a liability.
He had never deserved you. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
And yetâyou had chosen him. Again and again and agin, through everything. When the world turned its back on him, you had stayed. When he had been drowning in darkness, you had dragged him, kicking and screaming, back into the light. You had believed in him when he was at his worst.
But it hadnât convinced him.
Because deep down, some fractured part of him still believed you had made a mistake. That you had seen something in him that wasnât really there. That one day, you would wake up and realize it. And instead of facing that fear, instead of acknowledging that his jealousy had nothing to do with you and everything to do with him, with his own insecurity, he had let it fester. Let it curdle into something sharp-edged and poisonous. He had taken that self-loathing and turned it outward, twisted it into resentment, as if you were the problem. Because it was easier to blame you than to admit the real issue was himself. Because if he couldnât stand beside you as your equal, then at the very least, he could try to pull you down to his level.
And now, he was watching the consequences unfold before him.
You let out a slow breath, your arms still crossed over your chest, gaze flickering away from him. That was somehow worse than your anger. Because at least when you were angry, you were fighting for thisâfighting for him.
Now, you just looked⊠done.
Sebastian took a step forward. You took a step back.
âPlease,â he tried, voice raw, âdonâtâdonât do that.â
You swallowed, gaze flickering somewhere past him. âDo what?â
âDonât pull away from me,â he rasped. âPlease.â
You let out a quiet, breathless laugh. âSebastian, what the hell do you expect me to do?â
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. His thoughts were a mess, tangled and frantic, searching for something to make this better.
He had always been good at words. Always knew how to talk his way out of things, to charm, to persuade. But this? This was different. This wasnât some misunderstanding. This wasnât some careless mistake. This was something ugly and deep-rooted and poisonous, and he had let it fester too long.
You let out another breath, shaking your head, as if you were trying to gather yourself, trying to find a way forward despite the wreckage he had left between you.
âLook,â you said finally, voice weary, âI donât... I donât know what to do with this right now.â You swallowed, rubbing at your temple. âI need, I just need some time.â
Sebastianâs throat tightened. âTime?â
Your voice was quiet, tired. âYeah.â
Sebastian wanted to argue. Wanted to tell you that he would do anything to fix this right now, but the truth was, he didnât even know where to start.
He had spent so long resenting you for something that wasnât even your fault. Had twisted his own insecurities into a weapon and used them against you, let them fester until they spilled out in a way he could never take back.
And now, he had to live with that.
He swallowed against the lump in his throat, nodding stiffly. âOkay.â
You looked at him for another momentâjust a momentâand then you turned.
Sebastian barely had time to register it before the crack of apparition echoed through the room, and you were gone.
And just like that, the house was silent.
Sebastian exhaled shakily, his hands trembling at his sides. The weight in his chest felt suffocating, crushing. He ran a hand through his hair, gripping it tight at the roots, eyes squeezing shut.
How to create a character for an online or tabletop RPG (also a good guide on creating characters in general)
Royalty/nobility TV Tropes page
Basic character profile
OC masterpost
Random character generators - (1), (2), (3), (4)
D&D Character Building Tool
Character Design Ideas:
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Character Design Inspiration blog
Concept art, fan art, cool art to be inspired by
Character design references and inspiration
Sources for POC character design ideas and models
Create your own character model using HeroForge
For horned characters
Body and hair types guide
Random outfit generator
Naming Help:
Amazing site with an endless amount of naming resources
General advice on avoiding naming appropriation
Hispanic Surnames
Gothic Victorian names
Huge master list for character things in general
Masterlist of names of all types - including but not limited to ancient/old world names, Celtic, African, Northern European, Southern and Central American Native names, Japanese, Chinese, Mongolian, Polynesian, and more
Another name masterlist
How to pick a character name guide
Yet another names masterlist
Creating Background/backstory:
Character Sheet/Development Sheet
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320 talents and passions for characters
On writing likes and dislikes that arenât frivolous
Why you should write non-human characters non-conforming to the gender binary
Stereotypes, tropes, and archetypes
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Characters who are scientists and writing about them doing science
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Describing skin tones
Writing friendship interactions that are platonic
Why having one character knock their friend unconscious to prevent them from doing something is a bad idea
Advice on shipping OCs with canon characters and what to avoid doing
Sweet Polly Oliver and Sweet on Polly Oliver situations (think of Disneyâs Mulan for an example)
How to write multiple viewpoints/juggling a main cast of more than 4 to 6 characters
How to make readers care about your morally gray hero/anti-hero
On platonic OC and canon character relationships
How to avoid Godmodding in RPs
When itâs cheap to kill off a character
Writing dialogue
Things you shouldnât do to canon characters
Avoiding purple prose in writing and RPs
Slang resources
Dialogue tips
Websites to chart your story/plot/character relationships
âOut for a nightly walk, Potter? Out of every inch of this castle and you choose to follow me?â Draco kept his wand trained on Potter as he stood.
âSo vain Draco,â having flown up ten feet, Draco almost laughed at Harry needing to take a few needed breaths, âNo one would follow you willingly. I just know youâre up to something. Katie didnât fall ill of her own accord.â âColloshoo.â
Inspired by this wonderful person's art. Check them out! @substellaris
Word Count: 7.5K
Triggers: None that I am aware of
Heâd never know that he had such a talent. Not until heâd met Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He was an excellent flyer and seeker, but that was something he felt needed to be saved for his own time. As a way to unwind and relax. What he eventually found out was he was able to pick up the bass quite well. Ronâs older brother, Charlie, had picked up a bass and only used it when he remembered he had it. It was a broken and put together bass, but with a little elbow grease and a little magic, it worked beautifully.Â
It was long and grueling work for such little pay off, but with Ron, Hermione, and Luna, theyâd managed to entertain the local area. Playing little one offs with little to no tips. But that didnât matter. The kids dancing in the street with their parents scolding them yet bobbing their heads to the music. The cute elderly couple who would have preferred softer and melodic music, still stopped to offer their respects and a couple of suggestions.Â
They had kept this going as a pass time. Every weekend they would drag heavy cases down the road to the main town, entertaining muggles, witches, and wizards alike. It didnât matter with music. Because as long as he saw a smile, he knew they were doing good.Â
So, when they had an offer from a club in London to play opening for a larger band, they had said yes with the upmost energy. They had no idea what this would lead to, but they knew it was an experience they could not pass up. At eighteen, they packed up Harryâs van, this being the beginning of a wonderful career.Â
Now they stood on the largest stage in the wizarding world, surrounded by thousands of fans on the first night of their tour. Luna was adored for her angelic voice. Hermione was applauded for her skills on the guitar and piano. Ron was beloved for his passion and control. Harry knew he was cherished for his simple yet powerful amplification of his part in the songs Luna wrote. They worked in perfect harmony and years later from that fateful invitation, they stood loved by witches, wizards, and muggles alike.Â
The lights in the concert hall shone brightly, illuminating face after face. Occasionally he would smile and chuckle at preposterous signs of âMarry Me!â And other declarations. He always tried to read the signs, smile at fans, and show just how grateful he was to be standing where he was. He started with nothing. They all did. But now, they stood on stage, performing for the people of this city.Â
As he played his rifts and rhythms, he looked up from his own fingers and in a moment, time stood still. There was no sound of music. There was no sound of cheers. He could only hear his Instead of a bright blue, red, or green strobe light, this man was illuminated by a simple white light. Harry took in the angelic sight before him. Platinum hair that had was neatly styled. His grey eyes widened in realization, as if he realized that Harry was focused solely on him.Â
A heat spread across Harry's face as things began to play again. Harry heart the hall chanting his name as his muscle memory took over, playing his own mini solo in the time that pasted. His eyes roamed the hall for a moment but searched in the crowd of shadowed faces for the man he had seen. He tried to keep up the energy, but his shoulders slumped in disappointment.Â
After the performance and an encore, they had finally completed the finale and settled backstage. Ron and Hermione stood talking excitedly about the performance while Harry was slumped on the couch provided. His arms were crossed as he stared at the floor, the mystery manâs face completely engrained in his mind. He had never experienced this feeling before. He had never made time stand still. Though, he could compare the experience to the first time he picked up a bass.Â
A cool feeling crept through his skin. He usually felt an obsessive heat under his skin the drove him in every decision, but this chilling embrace, offered a refreshing feeling. It wasn't any less, but a new form of passion that he had never experienced again. Until now.Â
He snapped from his thoughts as there was a bounce of weight next to him. Luna was sat sideways and facing towards him, smiling in the knowing way that she always did. âSo, what does he look like?âÂ
Harry was startled by the blatant question but was not surprised. Luna was keenly perceptive in the best possible way, but it often left her blunt and with no filter. âHeâs an impeccable beauty. Heâs got these grey eyes that just seemed to shine Luna. I mean really shine. Heâs got blonde hair, but it was so neat and just framed his face so well. Iâve never seen anyone look so... well, it too bad there is zero to zero chance of anything happening.âÂ
âWell of course nothing will happen,â Luna said this in a cheery voice and a smile that made her eyes appear closed.Â
âEh, well thank you for pointing out the obvious.âÂ
âNo, I mean of course nothing will happen. Youâre just sitting here instead of going out to look for this mystery man!â Harry cocked an eye at Luna. While people had assumed that living as a band meant total freedom, there were certain restrictions their manager had placed hoping to sell more tickets and backstage visits. âI canât just leave Luna- â
She quickly grabbed his hand and gave a squeeze, smile on her face. âYes, you can.âÂ
Normally he wouldnât think twice about running off to do what he wanted. But this was their job. He wouldnât put that at risk. âBut- âÂ
âYou should go mate. Well keep things covered here.â Ron had leaned against the back of the couch between the two and looked over at Harry. âYouâre so caught up with everyone else. Go.âÂ
âEhem, Iâm sorry Harry but it would seem our first group of people are here.â Just as Harry was getting up to grab his jacket, his shoulder slumped in disappointment. He just had permission from his friends and technically coworkers. He was willing to search, but the sound of their manager opening the door and walking in with a group quickly broke his hope to at least try to find this man.Â
âWell best get prepa- âHarryâs eyes widened as his eyes met a familiar set of grey ones.Â
ââââââ
Draco did not want to go to this concert. He didnât. He had better things to do that his father had expected of him. Surely Pansy and Blaise would understand?Â
They didnât. He sat in front of the mirror and styled his hair as Pansy sat beside him putting on make-up. âYou know you could say thank you.âÂ
âWhy? Because you both are forcing me to go to a concert. I believe it should be the other way around.â He grabbed a choker necklace that held an S and patted it snugly against his skin.Â
Pansy rolled her eyes as she finished applying dark lipstick. Blaise put a hand on Dracoâs shoulder and leaned over him with a smile. âYou deserve a break. Itâs hard being a âNepo Babyâ. Besides, your father will never hear of this, I promise.âÂ
Draco only stuck his nose up as he scoffed. Of course it was about that. He had secret pleasures such as this. Of course, he was so thankful that Pansy won the radio call-in for three floor seats and backstage passes, but he had built a reputation by direction of his father. No one in his position would be caught dead at a concert like this, mixed with muggles. But he did want to go deep down.Â
So, when they were sat cheering and taking photos for their own personal records, it took him by surprise to meet bright green eyes. His face suddenly felt hot and though he was positive it was meant to be a general glance out to the crowd, he found it wasnât.Â
Heâd seen the Famous Harry Potters eyes in magazines Pansy let him borrow, the pictures did not do him justice. Heâd always found the Potter boy to be quite handsome but seeing him in person was a whole new experience. Their eyes remained connected through the song and Draco couldnât break the heat that spread across his cheeks and under his skin. It sent chills and comfort through his body. He wanted to feel that more. He kept contact with Potters green eyes. They were so still and focused on him. Draco half wondered if it was even directed with him at all. But the focus in Potters eyes was enough to tell him that it was.
Suddenly, Draco didnât care that he had come against his better judgement. Potter had ended up breaking the connection first as the song came to an end. Draco felt the icy feeling creep back into his body as he wanted to catch Potters eye again. But he stood patiently staring at him and his precise fingers that pressed and played his bass.Â
Before the end of the concert, Pansy had pulled him and Blaise to the meeting location to the meet the band. Draco had almost forgot that Pansy had backstage passes. While waiting outside the door, Draco stood slicking his hair back only for it to fall back into place. Darn his hair product for working so well. Blaise, who was leaned against the wall, chuckled at his vain attempt to look better. âDoubt itâs going to do much.â He said in a sing-song voice. Draco glared at him, but knew it was in vain. Potter was some famous superstar while he was just a politicianâs son. Still didnât mean he couldnât make a good impression. He wasnât some superfan like Pansy.Â
The door shot open as a tall wizard with sunglasses checked their passes and brought them in as the first group. They had a fifteen-minute backstage meet n greet so he would try to make the most of it before he returned to his boring and strict life. They followed him in succession and finally, they walked past the threshold.Â
Pansy tried hard to hold it inside. She so desperately wanted to ask for autographs, but opted to hold it in. Blaise played it cool and smiled at the band before them. He just had to be the epitome of cool. Draco, however, searched the room for Potter, only to be surprised that Potter was already looking at him.Â
âAlright gang, hereâs the first group! Have fun!â The door shut behind them as Luna and Hermione walked to the group with smiles and talking to the group.Â
Ron stayed by Harry and leaned down to whisper in his ear, âBloody hell, is that- âÂ
Harry could only nod, his eyes not leaving Dracoâs even though he was being polite and responding to Luna and Hermione. âHarry, that Lucius Malfoyâs kid. Draco, I think- Right sorry, I forget you donât keep up with that stuff. Lucius is a politician; he has poured money into Draco becoming the next minister. My father works in a different department and has told me how much Lucius harps on Draco.âÂ
Harry took in the information with a frown but moved to stand as he gestured to Ron to follow. âDonât know much about that. But something changed. I can just feel it.âÂ
As they approached, Harry smiled at the small group, but stopped in front of the grey eyed beauty. âHi there, thanks for coming to the show. It was quite magical I hope.â Harry glanced at Draco when he said this and noticed his cheeks grow red, but Draco didnât look away.Â
âIt was amazing! Thank you so much for setting this up. I never thought I would have the opportunity to meet you guys.â Pansy seemed to not be able to hold it in anymore as she gushed about how much she loved their music, breaking down their performances and ranking them. Blaise stood idly with Ron as they had a simple conversation. Harry really couldnât hear what about, but he held out a hand to Draco and smiled softly. âHi.âÂ
Draco let out an airy snort before reaching out and taking Harryâs hand. âHello.â Harry gestured to the couch and the two departed from the group to take a seat and just talk. It wasnât a long conversation, after all, they had fifteen minutes. But Harry immediately felt that cooling sensation he had before. This time it was more intense. Draco enjoyed every minute of their conversation. Despite the prim and proper nature of his conversations with those in the ministry, he didnât feel the need to fake himself. After all, they would never meet again. But Draco would surely treasure this moment.Â
As the door opened with new people to meet the group, Pansy and Blaise stood for one last photo, asking for Draco and Harry to join. They stood and before they joined the group, Harry took a chance. âDraco, um,â well he should have had something planned. He began to fidget with his bracelet, then it clicked. âHere., I want you to have this. If not as a promise we can meet again, but then as a thank you for coming to the concert.âÂ
Draco felt Pansy and Blaiseâs eyes on him as he grabbed the bracelet and held it in his hands. It had a red leather band with braided leather strips with little gold chains. Draco then held out his arm, offering the bracelet back. âWould you help me?âÂ
Harry smiled and proceeded to clip the bracelet in place. His hand stayed a little longer than needed before the let go. Draco returned the smile briefly before turning to return to his friends, casually throwing over his shoulder a, âIâm in touch.âÂ
âââââ
The two began writing every day. Sometimes it was as simple as good morning and good day. Other times, there were pages and pages of each otherâs story. Harry didnât hesitate to disclose himself to Draco while Draco seemed hesitant. When Draco wrote, he often tried to leave names out his correspondence. However, a few missteps lead Harry, Hermione, to hypothesize that Draco was likely being careful because of his affiliation to his father. It wasnât hard to believe.Â
Harryâs time was often filled with practices and other work that demanded his attention. However, he made the time to reach out and even offer to come to Draco, after all, he could easily ask for forgiveness than permission if he missed something with work. Draco couldnât it seemed.Â
Draco responded at least twice a day, an initial greeting and a quick written explanation that he was too busy to chat. Harry once asked if he could visit Draco. This was shut down in record time. Harry was grateful for the time he was able to get from Draco. His letters alone made him feel better after a hectic day. He kept every single letter and re-read them when Draco happened to be busy. Heâd often read the Prophet in hopes of catching a glimpse of Draco, but it hadnât been successful. Draco hadnât disclosed much about his job, what he wanted to do, or anything else.Â
Ron noticed how much Harry began to sulk about Draco and as the great friend he was, offered a simple solution. âJust go see him?â Harry scoffed and tossed the cushion that he had been holding tightly against his chest.Â
âSure, seems easy when you think about it. But I canât just barge in and expect heâd be ok to see me. Especially when heâs told me, and I quote, âYou shall not come and visit. I forbid it.â Sure Ron, should go swimmingly.âÂ
âAlright, no need to chomp off my head for it. Just gets depressing seeing you wallow in self-pity. Boo-hoo, canât see your boyfriend. Either do something about it or accept that you two are just too different to really make whatever it is youâve got work.â Ron sat down on the other end of the couch picking up the daily Prophet.Â
Harry didnât retort but sat there going over what Ron had said. As much as he hated it, he knew Ron had a point. And so, he acted as he normally would, as âcalm and rationallyâ as possible and he set to work.Â
âââ
Draco sat at his desk with droopy eyes. Gosh did he want to sleep, but the work needed to be done. His father had demanded it and, well, what his father wanted, he got. He lived alone, but still the flat held his fatherâs presence. Neat and devoid of any life. He had to fight for his own space, arguing that it would make him more relatable to others when it got closer to elections and such. But even then, this wasnât his own. He hated the marble counters that were trimmed with gold and black. He hated the columns that dotted the flat. Even the black colored floor that screamed elegance, but it wasnât him.Â
Pansy and Blaise had tried to spruce up the place with friendly pictures and small tokens of their friendship, but it all disappeared with a flick of his fatherâs wand. Draco shook his head and refocused on the work in front of him. If he completed it and grabbed an official position in the ministry, then his father would certainly stop being as strict as he was. Even with his motherâs protection, it didnât spare him from much as he grew up.Â
Small tapping caught his attention as he looked around. Perhaps it was a neighbor? He shook his head and refocused. Work to do.Â
But it happened again, this time with a barrage of taping that he then realized came from his window. He turned and rose from his seat. Who would be writing this late? He opened the curtains but couldnât see anything. Against his better judgement, he opened the window to take a better look outside.Â
This time he was hit with a barrage of pebbles that fell to the floor and through his shirt. âWhat the- âÂ
âDraco!â A forced scream whisper sounded through his very chest. Certainly, it wasnât- âDraco!âÂ
He leaned back out the window and looked down to see none other than the famous Harry Potter. He frowned but crossed his arms against the window seal. âAnd what are you doing here Potter? Didnât I expressly forbid you from simply stopping by?âÂ
Harry flinched at the tone, but it was worth a shot. âI know. But I just wanted to see you.â The candor of the statement shot through Dracoâs icy exterior as his eyes widened with shock. âI will leave if you want me to. But I was going to invite you out flying.âÂ
Draco loved flying. He was a natural when he was young, but when his fatherâs tutors came, that all came to a stop. He bit the inside of his cheek. He could afford a break, right? Opting to not seem too eager he waved his hand out the window, gesturing for Harry to come up. Harry took notice of a certain bracelet Draco was wearing.Â
âââ
Though he was dressed in his formal wear, he still flew with ease. Harry laughed as they both circled each other and raced along the night sky. Draco was as serious and calm as he could be. The air rushed through his hair, and he certainly felt more alive and aware than he had an hour ago. Heâd free fall a couple hundred feet and catch himself before he could break the line of the sky.Â
Theyâd finally found a comfortable spot to simply hover and watch the stars. Harry was able to lean back with his hands in his pocket, while Draco leaned forward with his arms folded against the wood of his broom.Â
âThanks. For inviting me out. But donât expect that you can just show up like this again.â Harry looked over at Draco and smiled.Â
âI mean, I missed looking at your face. You have a nice smile when youâre doing something you love.â Draco tried to push down the blush that spread across his face and to his ears, but he knew he failed.Â
âSuppose it would be easy for you to say that. You get to do what you love every day.âÂ
âWell tell me than, what would you be doing then? Because I know it isnât whatever it is youâre doing now.â
Draco stayed silent. Heâd thought of it. But there wasnât much he could do to make the dream a reality. Heâd love to be an alchemist, healer, or potioneer. He wanted to create, and he knew he was good at it. He wanted to fix things; heâs done it before. But it was just a dream. Nothing more. âWhat makes you think I donât love what Iâm doing?âÂ
âDraco,â Harry sat forward and ducked to try and look at Draco directly, âYou never look happy. Youâre always busy. And even though this is the first time weâve met up since the concert, you look exhausted in a bad way.â
âLike there is a good way. Itâs work.â
âWell, yeah. I get exhausted most days. My shoulder, arm, and hands get sore. There are some days my fingers bleed. But itâs not a bad thing. Itâs something I love doing. Creating music with my friends and sharing it with the world. You deserve that too Draco.âÂ
Draco finally looked over at Harry, his eyes soft. Once Harry took a second look, he leaned his broom closer to Dracoâs and hesitated for a moment before wrapping an arm around Dracoâs shoulders. Draco never let himself really feel. He never had a choice but to feel thankful for the opportunities his father provided. Hearing Harryâs passion for his work, it just shows how much he was missing. Draco let a tear fall. Then another. Until he was fully leaned into Harryâs embrace. It was messy and wobbly given that they were in the air still, but Draco didnât care.Â
Harry rubbed Dracoâs shoulder as he began to quietly weep. Heâd known sadness before. Not like this, but heâd sometimes get emotional when Sirius or Remus told him stories about his parents. He wished he could have had a life feeling wanted as a child. But seeing how Dracoâs shoulders rose and fell with sputtered inconsistency, Harry understood what it could have led to.Â
The flapping of wings interrupted the moment between them. When Draco looked up, his eyes widened at the sight of a pure white barn owl with striking black eyes. It landed on the tip of Dracoâs broom and held out is leg expectantly. Draco didnât dare move to grab it, mentally degrading himself for letting this go on for more than an hour.Â
Harry, as curious as he was, reached for the letter and opened it. Sure, it wasnât for him, but he knew a panicked response when he saw one. He read the letter, which was written in fine dark green ink. His nose scrunched up while reading the letter. The consequences of Dracoâs lack of ambition would result in the falling of the Malfoy name because no Malfoy man shouldnât be in a position of power. And this failure would not come from Draco. Signed, Lucius Malfoy. Harry turned to Draco who only stared at the owl, arms wrapped tightly around himself.Â
âDraco, you deserve to be happy too. Surely there is a better way to- â
âShut up Potter. You wouldnât know what is better or what makes me happy.â Harry was left speechless at the quick retort, but not for long.Â
âDraco, all Iâm saying is youâve been surrounded with his mess all your life. There is more than this darkness that your father is filling your head with.âÂ
âShut up, Shut up! You donât know Potter! Just- leave me alone. Donât write to me. Donât come knocking. Obviously, this was a bad idea. Youâre becoming a distraction. Yes. Thatâs what it is.â With that Draco turned sharply on his broom back to his flat. Harry quickly followed, passing the owl as he did so.Â
âDraco waits!â He sped beside Draco and tried to pull in front of him. He reached and grabbed Dracoâs arm, pulling them both to a sloppy stop. Draco didnât fight but didnât look at Harry either. âIs that what you really want? Iâm not a distraction if Iâm someone you want. Give yourself some slack! This is your life. Not your fathers, not your familyâs, but your life. Please Draco. Make a choice for yourself.â Harry knew that he had deep feelings for the blonde in front of him. Theyâd hardly spent more than three hours with each other, but there was something inside him that made him feel normal. Even if Draco didnât want more with Harry, he would still stay beside Draco like he would with Ron, Hermione, Luna, or any of his other friends.Â
Dracoâs other arm gripped his broom tighter as he jerked his arm from Harryâs hand. His eyes were still wet, and his neck was a dark red. He hurriedly unclipped the bracelet that Harry had given him and chucked it in a fit of frenzied anxiety.Â
When Draco turned back to Harry, his eyes rose to meet the usual bright green ones. Grey eyes swirled with shadows of melancholy and turmoil. His icy interior seemly melting with his deep desire to feel wanted for himself. To be able to choose his own destiny. He only wanted peace, but that would only ever be a dream. With one last look, Draco tried to convey his remorse for his action, but he knew that it was over. Their friendship. Whatever could have happened, was no more. He took off again, this time not hearing Harry shout after him or the rush of wind from his speed.Â
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âHarry? Rons told me that youâve been shut up in your room since you last spoke with Draco. Weâve respected your solitude long enough. Either open the door or we are coming in.â Ron grabbed Hermioneâs shoulder with a shake of his head.Â
âMione, we arenât going to do that.âÂ
âOh yes, I am. He certainly would do it for any of us if- â
âOh, hello Harry.â Lunas soft voice quelled the bickering between Ron and Hermione. They turned to see Harry with an armful of papers.Â
âOh, hey guys, sorry. Didnât mean to worry you, but I just got busy with this. I hope youâll like it. Iâm going to talk to our manager to get him to set up another performance. I think we should be able to get these cleaned up and good to go.â Harry passed out the scribbled down parts of the music he crafted. Ron drums. Hermione keyboard. Luna guitar and backup vocals. Harry bass and lead.Â
âHarry this sound like itâs wonderful. But what prompted this?â Luna pulled her wand from her hair and began to clean up the scribbled writing and sheet music.Â
Harry looked away, âI donât know why it really matters, but I want to try and get to Draco the only way I know how.â Harry turned his gaze back to his friends and scratched his face. âI know I must sound crazy, but- â
âBloody hell, of course you are. Just didnât want you sulking away. Give us time to practice and we will meet up in a week?â
Hermione hmphed and pointed a finger at Harry, âNext time you want to make new music, at least involve us,â she turned and followed Lunas lead by clearing up the paper as best she could while muttering under her breath.Â
Ron shrugged at Harry and followed the girls to walk them to the door. He locked the door and accioâed his sticks, opting to use the couch pillows as a practice set for now.Â
Harry was thankful to have such understanding friends. But he could only hope the letter heâd sent to Blaise and Pansy would prove they were too.Â
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Draco did not want to go to this concert. He didnât. He had better things to do that his father had expected of him. Surely Pansy and Blaise would understand? Especially if he just told them the truth about what happened. However, they did not understand and instead began shoving clothes onto him and brushing out his hair before he finally gave up and dressed himself.Â
This time Blaise was fortunate enough to win some tickets, apparently to some new debut. Draco really didnât care, but his friends wouldnât let him just stay home. Heâd been sulking since the flight. His hand kept trying to fidget with the bracelet Potter had given him, but of course he just acted. He wished he could have just given it back to Potter, perhaps there could have been some salvage of friendship. Draco kept his head down not caring who was playing, the conversations around him, or even the cheers when the openers arrived on stage.
âYou know that heâs right.â Pansyâs voice was almost drowned out by the music and cheers. Draco looked over at her and shook his head.Â
âI have no idea what youâre talking about.â That was a lie. He had learned quickly to tell fibs when they best suited him. Unfortunately, Blaise and Pansy wouldnât learn to accept it.
Putting her a hand on her hip, the other rose to pinch his cheek. âYouâre being dumb again.â He almost yelled in protest, but an arm on his shoulder grabbed his attention.Â
âShh, focus.â Blaise smirked and pointed to the stage. At some point they seemed to have changed out. Center stage with his Bass and an earpiece microphone was none other than Potter himself. Draco suddenly felt sick and wanted to just run. How could they bring him here? He thought for a moment and sighed. He really didnât give them much information about what happened. The depression heâd fallen into was more than just breaking off whatever Potter and him had.Â
Potter had seemed to really fight. Blaise and Pansy did, sure, but they grew up with him. They understood the life he lived. Because they lived it too. Potter was the first stranger to fight for him. To really want to talk to him and even laugh with him. Even in the brief flight, Potter didnât hesitate to compete with him. It wasnât fair.Â
Guitar and Bass started; it was a different pace than their usual music. But when Potter opened his mouth, Draco felt shivers down his spine. The melodic and almost effortless vocal was enough to bring the crowd to their senses as fans around them screamed and cheered their praises for his official debut. But Draco heard something more. He saw something more. Potter stared directly at him. Though he swayed and almost bounced in spot, his voice remained clear with the clarity of a crystal. Each tone he hit and played sparked a type of passion in Dracoâs heart. His eyes watered, but he didnât cry.  He listened to each lyric with bated breath.Â
âIt breaks my heart that you can't let go
You say you're fine, but oh, I know
You've been dancing, dancing, dancing with your shadows
When the days get hard, and your lights burn low
Don't go far, just hold me close
We'll go dancing, dancing, dancing with your shadows
Dancing with your shadows,âÂ
Instead of making this song a confessional of the desire he had, instead, Harry had poured his person into it. Draco could tell because it screamed Harry. The deep emotional connection that Harry had developed to Draco pierced through Dracoâs core. Some one feels for him. It hurts Harry to see him so troubled? Harry sees the façade that Draco spent so long building and perfecting? His hand reached for the bracelet that Harry gifted him, but remembered it was gone. Draco deserved to live and linger among the shadows. He was nothing but a tool and puppet for his family. Heâd known and accepted this fact long ago. But Harrys simple offer to pull him close seemed to strike a new feeling inside him. Desire. He had been a tool and built so much, so why was he not proud of it? Did he truly deserve to be? Would Harry stay by his side and continue to fight for Draco? With Draco? It became too much as Draco broke from his seat and pushed down the crowded aisles to the lobby. He ignored Blaise and Pansyâs calls despite them following him out.
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Harry paced the room as he heard the openers nearly completing their set. Heâd no idea if his idea worked, but he had to try. Heâd written to Dracoâs friends and asked that they bring Draco to the concert, if not to say sorry, then to see Draco one last time. Despite never feeling the way he did with anyone else; he still felt his protective urge to help and guide Draco to his happiness. Ron, Hermione, and Luna tried to talk to him, but he couldnât hold a single conversation. His throat was tight with anticipation. But it didnât stop them from offering their words of encouragement.Â
âYouâll do amazing Harry. Donât ask how I know. Careful now, your heads full of wrackspurts.â
âWeâve practiced day in and out. Youâve composed a wonderful set. Whatever happens, we are right here.â
âItâs not like youâve done this before mate, besides, Iâve had to listen to you sing for the past some odd years while cleaning or whatever, youâre fine.âÂ
As they prepared to get on stage, Harry suddenly felt a sense of calm surround him. It was a familiar sensation that he could not place. He shook his head and tried to focus as people attached and connected the earpiece to him. Just as they made their way into place, his eyes landed on the primary spot heâd chosen for the Blaise, Pansy, and Draco. He wanted to know for sure if Draco showed, and it seemed that he had. Harry watched as Blaise pointed him out to Draco, who looked up at the stage to see him. Harry wanted to wave, but the same look flashed across Dracoâs face. Was this the right choice?Â
As Luna and him began to play, Dracoâs expression faded from shock to fascination. He didnât blink and though he might have wanted to run, he stayed and stared. Not an icy glare or the same look from the other concert, but something new. Next his eyes seemed to water like that night, but no tears seemed to fall. Dracoâs eyebrows rose as a hand rose to cover his mouth.Â
âIt's hard to hear your words
When you're so afraid to speak 'em
Somethings on your mind
But you're hiding it away
If you're running through the woods
Yeah, I'll search all night to find you
When the wolves are at your door
I'm gonna drive them all awayâÂ
Harry wrote this song with every intention of sharing to Draco that it didnât matter what happened between them. He just wanted to stay by his side, even if it was to take the hurt or protect Draco from all of his inner turmoil. The song portrayed it so well he felt, even with the help of his friends who offered better alternatives to make it the best it could be. He was so fortunate, why wouldnât he offer it to someone who needed it?Â
While the song came to an end, Harry watched in defeat as Draco ran. But he couldnât show it. He had to keep on with the show. He had to continue playing even as Luna picked up her usual que as lead vocalist. He kept up the energy as best as he could. But he knew he would collapse after all was said and done.Â
Luna finished the set, bidding the fans a great night as the closers began to usher people safely from the hall. Ron was the first to lead Harry off the stage. He didnât make any comment, he didnât thrash Draco, but he did rub a soothing hand down Harryâs arm as Hermione and Luna followed slowly behind. Harry could hear Hermioneâs concerns of Harry shutting down and retreating into himself. Harry knew what she was talking about. Before he found music, his temper was horrible. Heâd snap at his friends and despite their efforts to help him, he pushed them away. He knew they didnât want that to happen, but he often did when he failed or felt alone. This wasnât their fault, and he secretly vowed not to allow it to happen again.Â
As they reached the backstage room, Ron ushered Harry to the couch while Hermione rushed to grab water for everyone. Luna sat next to Harry as they had last time, but this time she held his hand and wrapped it in-between both of hers. âIâd be second-guessing everything right about now, but Iâd like you to remember that youâve done everything you can Harry,â Luna looked into Harryâs eyes and smiled, âYouâre so wonderful for trying to help him, but remember that you cannot internalize his decision. I donât know what you might be feeling right now, but I know we are all here. We will walk this path together. Ok?âÂ
Harry felt like a failure, but he knew Luna was right. Draco made his choice and while Harry would have loved to see what Draco could have been, he understood that Draco was gone in his familyâs misery. He opened his mouth to respond, but shouting caught his attention. Everyone in the room was put on alert as they grabbed their wands and pointed it at the door. The shouting grew closer as spells and the shield charm were cast.Â
The door swung open as their manager fell back with his own wand pointed at the intruders. âAnd I said that I didnât care if you âknowâ them. You shouldnât be back here!âÂ
Stepping through the door, Draco pointed his wand down at the man and scoffed. âHow else was I supposed to reach out tonight? Seriously, youâve met me before stupid, arrogant man!â He blocked a stunning curse and stepped over the man on the floor.
Draco looked around the room and watched as Harry lowered his wand. âDraco?âÂ
âPott- Harry,â Draco suddenly looked to the side and put away his wand, unsure of what else he would say, but he still opened his mouth refusing to look at Harry.Â
âLook, I have always been guarded and trained to hold my cards close to my chest. I donât know who I can trust and even now it sucks to be in this position. Before you, things were fine. But you were the first stranger in my life to make me feel wanted and fought for. I lov- appreciate how you light up about what youâre passionate about. Iâd like to feel that too. If you can forgive me for the last conversation we had, Iâd like to learn.â Draco finally looked at Harry with cautious and guarded eyes. His nose was pointed high as if Draco prepared to dismiss the entire situation like he would dismiss a servant.Â
Harry walked over to Draco slowly. âThatâs all Iâd like to do,â Harry grabbed Dracos hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, âand perhaps when youâre settled and on your own, we could pick up where things left off.â Draco squeezed Harrys hand back and nodded.Â
âI fully anticipate problems. Iâll expect you to stay by my side as I suffer through them.â
Harry smiled, âBy the end of it, you will not suffer anymore. But I will help you through it.â
------
Epilogue
âMate, you could have bought a better place yeah?â Ron bit the side of his lip as he peered around the building that held dust, spiderwebs, and broken furniture.Â
âNot exactly in my âbudgetâ Weasel. Besides, its perfect. Itâs mine.â Draco stepped into the decomposing building and stood firm in what used to be the lobby or main entrance.Â
âThatâs the spirit Draco, this isnât something a little elbow grease canât fix!â Hermione pushed up her sleeves and put down the cleaning supplies she brought.Â
âOh? I thought this was your intentions Draco. I think it is lovely.â Draco raised an eyebrow at Luna and opted to not say anything.Â
âOf course, it needs to be cleaned and repaired. Once I am finished with my apprenticeship with Severus, I will be able to open my own shop. It needs to be ready by then.âÂ
âWell, good thing youâve got great support.â Draco turned to see Harry breathing heavily as he walked through the door. âSorry Iâm a little late, got caught up.â He took his time looking around and smiling. âItâll be great Draco.â
Draco grimaced, âWell it better be. I didnât leave it all behind for it to fail.â He crossed his arms and looked around the space and sighed. Â
Luna chuckled, âFailure is inevitable, itâs your reaction that dictates success.â
Ron frowned, âImpossible, itâs how much profit you can make. Trust me, George and Fred have made it perfectly clear now that theyâre successful.â
Hermione, who had set the broom to sweep scoffed and placed her hands on her hips. âBoth of you are ridiculous, you wonât fail if you prepare, and money doesnât mean everything. It is about the accomplishment.âÂ
Harry rolled his eyes as he picked up a duster and began to manually dust, idly listening to his friends bicker as they began to help clean. Draco was focused on repairing the roof as he noticed a large hole that had attributed to the damage in the building. He began to repair it until he noticed something gold falling onto him. He backed away with a small gasp and watched as familiar red clunked to the floor.Â
Draco picked up the bracelet heâd thrown so long ago and could not believe his eyes. Thinking back, he supposed that they had flown all over Wiltshire and it was possible. But the odds were astronomical. âHey whatâs up?â
Draco turned quickly not hiding the object in his hand. âI-,â He couldnât believe it and yet he held it in his hand.Â
Harry wasnât prepared to see the bracelet ever again. It wasnât anything to special, but heâd given it to Draco as a promise. He reached out for the bracelet and held it in his hands. He wanted to slip it back onto his own wrist but looked back at Draco with a shy smile. âMay I?â He held out his hand.Â
Draco felt his face get warm as he placed his hand in Harryâs. âAnother promise for me to break I suppose?â
Harry chuckled as he latched it. âI hope not. But I have a feeling when all is said and done, there is only one way for this to go.â Harry inwardly cringed, but he knew what he would like to happen. Since the first concert, the feeling that Draco gave, his drive, and eventual passion. He would like to be more than a tool in his journey, but a part of it.Â
Draco rolled his eyes as the bracelet fell into place. âI donât think a bracelet is a good way to promise that,â Draco grabbed the front of Harryâs shirt and pulled him close, smashing their lips together in an explosion of new sensations. Harry was shocked but rested his hands on Dracoâs hips. Draco wrapped his arms around Harryâs shoulders. Theyâd stay like that for as long as they could, but when they pulled away, they didnât separate. They pressed their foreheads together in a silent promise to make it work.Â
After another moment, Draco smirked, âBesides Potter, youâre better than that. But if you need reminders, I suppose I will oblige and remind you.âÂ
They both laughed and pulled away to finish cleaning. Both were eager to start something more serious. But of course, life was more chaotic. There wouldnât be a perfect time for their relationship to start. But at first sight, they knew that they had every chance.Â
^ inspired by this wonderful persons amazing art. Still working on it and the hope is to get it finished this weekend!
A cool feeling crept through Harryâs skin. He usually felt an obsessive heat under his skin the drove him in every decision, but this chilling embrace, offered a new, unusual, and refreshing feeling. It wasn't any less, but a new form of passion that he had never experienced again. Until now.Â
âââ
Heâd seen the Famous Harry Potters eyes in magazines Pansy let him borrow, the pictures did not do him justice. Heâd always found the Potter boy to be quite handsome but seeing him in person was a whole new experience. Their eyes remained connected through the song and Draco couldnât break the heat that spread across his cheeks and under his skin. It sent chills and comfort through his body. He wanted to feel that more. He kept contact with Potters green eyes. They were so still and focused on him. Draco half wondered if it was even directed with him at all. But the focus in Potters eyes was enough to tell him that it was.
yeah this drawing killed me in so many ways but it's finally done!! i've had this idea for sooo long but i only found a relevant reference just recently
And there he was, so prim and proper. Years beaten into him the importance of appearances. Though, he knew that actions spoke louder, which was why Harry would be able to walk around the wizarding world so basic and normal. Yet no one would bat an eye, only offer a small âthank you.â Which is why Harry had to step in when the man he once hated was being verbally assaulted.
Draco had put up with this treatment for years despite making progress in the alchemical field. He never wavered in his stoney demeanor when this occurred. He would usually wait until the people left or he would continue on his way. He felt as though he deserved the treatment forced upon him. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, saved him from a fate worse than death when the war ended. He faced no real consequences, so he endured the threats, the assaults, and the looks he received when people saw him in the streets.
Harry had managed to pull the crowd to focus on him, but still Draco stood unafraid and unfeeling. Once Harry had managed to disperse the crowd, heâd offered to walk with Draco wherever he needed to go, explaining that he really didnât deserve that.
âYou donât know what I deserve Potter. I didnât need your saving.â Draco kept his eyes directly infront of him, a firm crease in his eyebrows indicating more he wanted to say, but chose not to.
âReally? Because it certainly looked like you did. Youâre usually so quick to shut someone down. So why didnât you?â Harry kept his hands in his pockets and kept pace with the blonde beside him. He watched as Draco took long, but careful strides to wherever he was going. His hands pinching and relaxing at his side.
âAnd why does it matter to you?â His voice was low and seemingly dangerous, yet he still didnât waver in his gaze. âSurely the Savior of the Wizarding world has something better to do?â
âNot really,â Harry had chosen to avoid Dracoâs first question and cleared his throat, âbut why donât you tell me about it? We could go to a cafe or somewhere more private. Just seems odd that you wouldnât. I doubt a couple of years has done that to you.â He pointed this out to Draco and nodded his head towards a local muggle cafe that he liked to frequent. No one knew him here except by Harry, just the way heâd like it when he needed peace.
Draco, despite wanting to be anywhere but here, simply followed the direction Harry nodded towards. He took in the shop and its familiar, yet different, atmosphere. He loved cafes. He loved the smells and ambience. It was a place of peace for him, but heâd never thought about going to a muggle one before.
Draco allowed Harry to deal with ordering and paying. And together they sat, in a somber but relaxed silence. Harry ate his croissant and Draco drank his tea. Harry didnât rush Draco, and Draco didnât rush away from the silence.
Theyâd not spoke in two years, yet there was a simple understanding between them. The hate of the past was gone and anything moving forward was a mystery.
She offered a small smile and wave as the boy paid and rushed out. Once the bell rang again she turned to her brother with her hands on her hips. âDraco, youâll never make friends with that attitude.â
âWhat attitude? I am right and if anyone doesnât like it, perhaps theyâre not a friend Iâd like to have.â He closed his eyes and turned up a nose, indicating heâd been done with the conversation.
âI donât agree. Does that mean youâd abandon me?â She felt like she knew the answer, however, sheâd surely like to hear it from him. But he stayed silent, nose turned up and letting the assistant who was pinning his robes work in silence.
His hand reached out to grab your arm, not wanting you to leave. He has so much he needs to say, but it never seems like the right time. He knew the rumors. He knew they were true. He did not want you to leave.
Each time you left, you always came back with another story. Another scar. Another fear. Your heart is to good for this world. Yet youâve willingly chosen to share the purity and grace you have naturally to the world who takes so willingly.
âItâll be alright.â Just as he knows you, it would seem you know him. He has tried to control how he looks each time you told him you were leaving for a new venture. To help someone. To stop Rookwood and Harlow. To build your unique ability. Yet each time you chose to leave, despite the mournful look on his face.
Amit
He has tried so hard to figure out where it was written in the stars that you had to do these things. He knew you were destined for greatness the moment you stepped through the Great Hall doors.There was a nervousness to your walk, yet, you wasted no time to be sorted and start the new adventure in your life.
He love nothing more than to go with you. Heâd gladly protect you if he could. But he know that the action and danger you gladly embrace, is something he could never bring himself to do again. However, he tried so hard to understand research this the drill and what the goblins could be digging for. He wanted to help you in any way he could. He researched into goblin history and cross referenced instances where goblins would have to mine for something. Not a usual cross between wizardkind and goblinkind, but the most he was able to find is a mention of Bragbor. He has tried to help and offer information to you, but he knows there is information that is missing.
He decides to act on his instincts and reaches out to grab your arm, his hand tight and shaking. âPlease, donât go. Itâs to dangerous.â Though his hand is shaking, his voice is firm. You can only smile at him with uncertainty. Youâd love nothing more than to grant his request, but youâve so much to do. Things that would make the world better and safer. For him.
âAmit, I.. Iâd love nothing more than to do this for you. But I canât. Not right now at least. I need to make the world safer. For the people I love and care about. I have responsibilities-â
âYou donât get it!â His other hand grabbed your other arm pulling you closer. Trying in a vein attempt to get you to stay. âI love you. But all of this is running you ragged! Putting you in danger! If youâve seen worse than the mine we went to, then that is far too much!â His hand shook against your arms, but this time his voice cracked with fresh tears. It was fortunate that the astrology tower is usually empty, day or night.
You placed a hand onto his cheek and immediately his shot to it, as if to keep you from floating away. âDearest star, the cosmos didnât simply happen upon beauty. Chaos reigned, and now, look at its perfection. I donât know why I was given this gift or why I take these responsibilities. But I do it because I would love a perfect world we can share. I can make you this promise, Iâll always come back to you.â
Deep down he knew you were right. You were willing to take a risk heâd never dare to. But he knew one thing was certain. Youâd never break a promise. You were a competent user of magic. Youâve broken the barriers of all expectations of you, and he knew you would be fine. But what he wouldnât give to have you simply stay here with him. With your friends. Living a normal life. He looked at you with wide eyes and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close for a hug.
âPlease do. Iâve never met anyone who understands me like you do..â Despite the urgency of before, you let him hold you like this. Letting him cry out his worries and fears for you. Settled in the moonlight, you both made a sealing promise. Youâd return to him and heâd be there with open arms.
Garreth:
âIf I am being honest with you, I would prefer it if you didnât leave. Iâm not one for fighting as you are, but Iâll make sure youâre well prepared. Here.â He gave a dour look as he began to pull out vial after vial. Heâd spent a week perfecting the potions to ensure theyâd work for you. He did not know what youâd be facing, but surely these potions would help. Even if the thought of the Wiggenweld potion made his stomach hurt.
âI also spoke with Professor Garlick and she allowed me to plant some of the more, feisty, plants. These should help you while youâre out there. Wrapped as best as they could be, he offered three different types of plants. The Cabbage, Tentacula, and Mandrake. It was difficult explaining to Professor Garlick why he needed this material. Given his previous history with potioneering, he did look suspicious. But he opted to be your out of class tutor. He worked tirelessly to provide whatever he could for you to succeed in your missions.
He didnât understand why you had to be the one to help every Sue, Jim, and Stanley that asked. But he respected that you were so willing and giving. He knew there was something different about you the moment you walked into the Great Hall, but he never expected such a burden on your shoulders.
He didnât realize it until you came back from Honeydukes days after heâd asked for the Billywig Stings. He hadnât seen you in classes, but somehow you were doing well. But when youâd given him the stings, he noticed you were shaken. When he asked, you had openly told him a fraction of your adventure with Jackdaw. He remembered wanting to comfort you, but he didnât know you well enough to offer a hand of comfort. But the more he saw you leaving the castle grounds and even the safety of Hogsmeade, the more he deduced that you were off having more of your little adventures.
Each time he saw you, he would offer an âextraâ potion. Itâs what brought you both closer the more he thought about it. Usually he could call on anyone to talk to, but he valued the time he could stand and speak freely about whatever could take your mind of the burden you carried. But it was never enough.
âThank you Garreth. These will be helpful. I know itâs not ideal to watch a friend âgo off to battle,ââ youâd said this with a goofy tone, but immediately straightened at his unusual blank expression, âBut it is something I have to do. For myself. For my friends. For the wizarding world, not to sound to dramatic.â He watched as you put the last of the potions and plants away for safe keeping.
âI, and trust me, I of all people understand taking a risk for the betterment of the wizarding world. Itâs where I concoct my best ideas. But there is surely a difference between a student and a qualified adult?â His brows furrowed in desperation, âIâm sure youâre more than competent, but why does it have to be you? Right now, you should have the freedom to make mistakes when they donât matter. Right now, you should be worried about how you look on a date or something. This-â his lips pursed together as he tried to think of the best way to tell you what he thought, âthis is absolute madness.â His arms were extended by his side as he finished, having previously moved around to emphasize his point.
You had taken the burden with stride. There was no point in denying what needed to be done, especially when authorities hadnât managed to do anything since the beginning. Youâd often come back needing mending and cleaning, but thanks to Garreths potions, there was no bruising or pain. But he was left seeing the scars of your ventures.
âIt can be madness, but-â Seeing the way your face tried to find a reason, a seemingly valid reason for your suffering.
âBut nothing. I care about you. So much it really hurts sometimes. I hate seeing you work yourself to the bone for people who will never truly appreciate how much youâre giving up!â His face was slowly turning red while his eyes watered. He couldnât even look at you. His usual gaze meeting yours, he could only look to your feet.
âGarreth, I know there is a lot I am missing. But I promise you, when all of this is over, we will make up for lost time. Any way youâd like. We can go on dates. Fight for the millionth time. Make a mistake and ask for forgiveness. But this is just something that must be done. For myself. For you.â You placed a hand onto his cheek, feeling his warmth and even the jittery mess he was inside.
It took him a moment of trying to blink away tears and look into your eyes. His hand covered yours and he turned his face to place a kiss on your palm. âIâll hold you to that.â